


so young and beautiful (and so successful)

by i_am_my_opheliac



Series: imagine (a world like that) [12]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Happy, M/M, Songfic, talk of the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 12:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_my_opheliac/pseuds/i_am_my_opheliac
Summary: But you have plans for tonight, ways to celebrate that involve more than just sex and the taste of him on your lips.--Inspired by successful - Ariana Grande





	so young and beautiful (and so successful)

 

_I just got some real good news from work, boy (It's a surprise, surprise)_  
_You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say (It's a surprise, surprise)_  
_It's so hard to hold back, baby (It's a surprise, surprise)_  
_I'm so excited, I can hardly wait (It's a surprise, surprise)_

The cabbie is listening to some kind of rap song, the flow of it so quick it makes your heart want to match its tempo, flutter in your chest with the same intensity. Your leg bounces up and down in a nervous rhythm, and you have given up trying to stop it a couple of minutes into the cab ride, turning a shy smile to the perplexed driver.

There’s too much adrenaline pumping in your veins, too much excitement making you feel like time is slowed down, like you’re covered in syrup and sticking to the fabric of reality, unable to move forward.

You shift your phone in between your hands, trying to focus on the cold glass of the screen to resist the temptation to press fingers on it, typing out the message you’ve been screaming in your head for hours now.

It’s so hard, not to share things with Dan - even harder to not have him next to you in a day like this, not having the familiar presence of him by your side, the smell of warmth and comfort that always makes you stand just a little bit straighter.

But today was your day - you are going to share it with him, as soon as you get to the comfort of the home you’ve finished building, the home that holds everything dear to you, the man that you love and the physical manifestations of everything that you have accomplished, mostly together.

There’s a thrill running down your spine at the idea that, soon enough, you will be able to add another proof of your success - this time, one of your own.

_Yeah, it feels so good to be so young_  
_And have this fun and be successful, yeah_  
_I'm so successful, yeah_  
_And, girl, you too, you are so young_  
_And beautiful and so successful, oh, woah, yeah_  
_I'm so successful_

“Phil?” Dan calls the moment you open the front door, his voice carrying down the stairs to you like musical notes floating through the air, a gentle caress to your ears. There’s expectations in his voice, maybe a bit of surprise - you didn’t warn him that you were coming home, afraid that the moment he asked you something you would spill everything.

You want to look him in the eyes when you do, want to see the crinkle of happiness appear on his face, thumb at the dimple that shows up on his cheek more and more often, a tangible proof that he is happy - with you, with the life you’ve build together and most importantly, with himself.

“Yeah,” you answer back as you step into the foyer, taking only a couple of steps before remembering that the treated parquet Dan has insisted upon is way too expensive to walk on it with shoes that have touched the streets of London. It makes you smile to yourself as you reveal the colourful socks hidden by the formal black shoes, the orange and green fabric a reminder that no matter how much of an adult you acted today, this is still part of you.

Dan is reclining on the sofa, naked feet propped on top of the pouf you bought only a couple of years back for the previous apartment. You can spot a hint of navy blue in the midst of soft grey fuzz, and you distinctly remember that it hadn’t been there this morning. It makes a surge of fondness in you, the idea that Dan spent the time waiting for you pampering himself, doing things that he enjoys and that he finds relaxing, just because he can.

You are not gonna tell him, lest he will wave it off as something completely unimportant, but there’s a sense of pride in you, the idea that instead of succumbing to the usual feeling of guilt and dread for his own projects, only heightened by you being out for your own work, Dan felt good enough to do something for himself.

“I didn’t think you were going to be home yet,” Dan says as he tilts his head back to look at you upside down, puckering his lips in a silent request for a kiss that you’re happy to grant.

Your back protests as you stay bent over to be as physically close to him as possible, your glasses almost slipping off your nose. “It went quicker than I thought.”

“So?” he asks, eyes shifting to try and read your expression. “How did it go? Don’t keep me waiting, come on!”

You take in the way he looks at you, eagerly awaiting for a reply to a question that he probably knows the answer to - he’s read the emails, over your shoulder during night time and on his own when you asked him to, when you needed him to check when you were too scared to do it yourself.

And still, still he looks completely focused on you, ready for you to tell him about it, about your meeting and your trade and everything that has come out of it, and it doesn’t matter that he _knows_ , that he’s known since the very beginning, when it was still a vague idea of unformed shadows. He wants you to tell him, because he knows how important this is for you, how proud you are - he doesn’t want to steal your moment, not even for a second.

You love him for it.

“It was amazing. They want to buy the rights for the script.”

He throws his arms around your neck, and it should be awkward and uncomfortable in the position you’re in, but he sounds so genuinely happy, peppering kisses along your jaws, that you can’t help but feel like it’s absolutely perfect. “My boyfriend has his own animated show!” He whisper yells in your ear, and it takes everything in you not to ravish him there and then.

But you have plans for tonight, ways to celebrate that involve more than just sex and the taste of him on your lips.

So you leave another kiss on his lips, another smile turned his way, before straightening your back. “Get dressed? We have a reservation.”

_This ain't nothing ordinary for me (It's a surprise, surprise)_  
_We ain't goin' to your favorite place (It's a surprise, surprise, yeah, yeah)_  
_You keep asking, "What is so special?" (It's a surprise, surprise)_  
_You really wanna know? You'll have to wait (It's a surprise, surprise)_

The restaurant is nice, almost overbearingly so. Even a few years back, you would have felt out of a place somewhere like this, afraid to look like a fraud if someone were to look at you - two gangly men shuffled in the corner of the room, giggling to each other and discussing Mario Kart strategies.

In some ways, it’s still the same - you still choose the most secluded table, although it’s more for privacy than for fear to be seen together. You still talk to each other about the most ridiculous things, from the new Switch games that are about to be released - you can’t wait for Final Fantasy VII, a wave of nostalgia hitting you both - to the new shows you want to watch on Netflix.

It’s comfortable and safe and everything that makes your relationship so good - the freedom of being yourselves whenever you’re together.

But there’s also something new sprinkled between the two of you, ideas for new projects, discussion of work emails and people to hire and businesses to expand. You work together just as perfectly as you have fun together, and so often it’s impossible to distinguish the two things and you think that, that’s why you work so well.

It’s right after dessert, when you’ve polished off the chocolate raspberry semifreddo and Dan’s foot is touching your ankle with intent, that you know it’s time to put the finishing touch to a day that has been so good to you, success after success.

“I have a surprise for you,” you say, and you hope you don’t sound as nervous as you feel as you reach into your pocket, fingers closing around the box whose weight you have been aware of for the entire day.

“What? You didn’t have to.”

You take in his pleased smile, the way he seems to lean just a touch into the table, and you smile to yourself, happy that you could do this for him. “Close your eyes.”

_Let me put my hands over your eyes (It's a surprise, surprise)_  
_(It's a surprise, surprise)_  
_Boy, are you ready for your surprise? (It's a surprise, surprise)_  
_(It's a surprise, surprise)_  
_Mmm ah, oh, I'ma give it to ya (Mhm)_  
_Mmm ah, oh, I'ma give it to ya (Oh, yeah)_  
_Do you like it, babe? (Do you like it, babe?)_

You can see him tense up the moment you lay the small box on the table, the red velvet of it looking almost like spilled blood under the low lighting of the restaurant. It’s almost the same colour as the wine you have been sipping, only a few droplets of it still clinging to the glasses in front of you.

Dan’s eyes are wide, shifting from the box to look at you before dropping back down the moment your gaze locks on his. You wonder, briefly, what Dan is mostly terrified about - that it looks like you’re about to propose, or that you are going to do it in public, in front of so many strangers that probably have no idea who you are but would still have their eyes glued on you?

His voice is shaking when he says, “Phil -” your name on his lips full of so many emotions that you want to hand pick it and tear it apart, examine each letter just to see the feeling curling around them.

It’s almost amusing, the way he seems to be at a complete loss of words, almost like he can’t actually believe you are going to do this but doesn’t know what else to expect. It makes you feel slightly guilty, the way you’re obviously worrying him, but there’s a cheeky part of you that can’t help but enjoy it, just a tiny bit.

“Dan,” you encourage, voice soft and fingers tapping on the tiny box to push it forward towards him.

He looks at you once more, eyes searching for something that will appease the knot that you imagine he’s probably feeling, and when he seems to finally find it, he takes the box into his hand. It looks even smaller in his palm, the vibrant colour such a stark contrast to his pale skin that you _need_ to snap a quick picture of it, just the way he holds it carefully.

“I -”

“Just - open it.”

You smile encouragingly as he does. It’s a pleasure just to watch him, to see the slight fear on his face turn into momentary confusion before his eyes shine with delight, sparkling with unshed tears and the reflection of the diamonds that he’s staring at.

“Do you like it?” you ask, unable to contain the excitement from your voice.

You don’t really need to, you know exactly that he does - after all, you have watched him browse the Cartier website for hours, the artificial light of the laptop burning your eyes as he sighed at every picture, wishful _so pretty_ coming out of his mouth.

“I - Phil,” it’s the first thing he says, mouth open in astonishment as he lowers the box on the table, carefully so, probably afraid that any harsh movement will make the earrings fall out of it. You’re still fascinated by how something so small and delicate looking can catch so much light.

It’s a simple design, really, nothing too crazy - you pondered for a second the black diamond studs, so similar to the ones he wore for years, but knew instantly that they would do no justice. You wanted to spoil him, make him shine as bright as he can, and the small white gold hoops with tiny diamonds on them are discreet and fancy enough that they’re exactly the kind of thing that Dan needs - no, the one he _deserves_.

“It’s not a ring.”

“It’s not,” you agree with a nod, bringing the glass to your lips just to drain the last drops of wine left. You have a feeling you won’t stay in the restaurant for much longer. “Are you disappointed?”

He shakes his head fiercely, hands shooting to close the box and clutch it close to his chest. “No! Of course not.”

“Good. Because I hope you know I wouldn’t use _my_ day to propose to you.” There’s a smirk on your lips and your tongue is probably poking out in between your teeth, you feel so delighted and so happy.

“Shut up, you idiot!”

He almost sounds offended, and it would be effective if it wasn’t for the rosy patch on his cheek being the perfect companion of the blush starting to spread on his face. Everything about him is gorgeous, from the glistening of his eyes to the indent of his dimple that you want to poke at, the broad shoulders that look so delicious in the black shirt he’s wearing and the perfect tousle of his curls, and you think - _damn. I can’t wait to marry you._

But there’s time for that, you know it - a time where it’s just the two of you, a moment not to be shared with anyone but the comfort of each other, just like you want to be, for the rest of your life.

For tonight, this is good. No, scratch that - it’s perfect.

_Tonight, I'm a baller, babe (Tonight, I'm a baller, baby)_  
_Even way beneath in, yeah (Even way beneath me)_  
_What else is there to say, boy? (What else is there to say, boy?)_  
_Say, bae, you should play with me, babe_

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, you can reblog it on tumblr [here](http://i-am-my-opheliac.tumblr.com/post/182744415629/so-young-and-beautiful-and-so-successful)


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